Anthem of the Angels
by TigerSpots
Summary: An ordinary young woman, yanked into a world of monsters, deities, and confusing men, must learn to cope with this drastic turn her life has taken. Thank God for sarcasam, chocolate, and sexy, emotionless angels...
1. Another One Bites the Dust

_Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Castiel and any other Supernatural characters belong to the show's writers. I claim nothing and write this merely for my own and others entertainment with no desire of profit._

_A/N: Ok, so like many (if you're reading this than probably all) of you, I am a huge fan of Supernatural. I've also been writing fan fictions for a few years now, and it was only a matter of time before I couldn't help myself from delving into this story. Castiel is definitely my favorite, so he of course was my first choice when imagining my own additional plotlines to this fantastic show. I know there are a lot of Dean/Cas fans out there (holy crap are there a lot of you) but this is not one of those stories. While there's nothing wrong with that specific preference, it just simply isn't my cup of tea. So here's hoping I can add to some of the other great Castiel/OC fanfics out there, and that I can bring you the reader some enjoyment from the insistent ideas that pester my mind until written. This introduction unfortunately does not include our favorite trenchcoated angel, but you can be sure he will make his appearance very soon. If you like where I am going with this and wish for me to continue, please review and leave comments. Thank you._

_Are you happy, are you satisfied_

_How long can you stand the heat_

_Out of the doorway the bullets rip_

_To the sound of the beat_

_Another One Bites the Dust ~ Queen_

There are few things in this word that really pissed me off these days. You know, the **really** good sort of pissed, when you're ready to take on the world with just your bare hands and a fresh manicure.

Usually, these sorts of situations involved my candy red Jetta in the receiving end of some impatient jackass's bumper. That or spiders…I really hate spiders.

This time, the object of my frustrations happened to be the evil vending machine, and it's dastardly plan to deprive me of a mid-afternoon Reeses.

_Bastard._

If my life had a soundtrack, that old western, high noon, good guy vs. bad guy shootout tune would be blaring all throughout the break room right now, staring down at my own reflection through it's taunting glass.

My dark hair, too frizzy and unkempt to be called stylish, only adds insult to injury, the bright orange hue of my target dancing teasingly against its silver coiled cage.

"Just shake it a bit." I roll my eyes, not even bothering to glance back at the non-too-helpful coworker. He is probably already too consumed in his greasy cheeseburger to possibly be of any **actual** assistance anyway.

Way past the point of 'shaking it a bit' I kick against the black metal of the machine without any restraint, inconsequential matters such as vandalism, destruction of company property, or even the scuff now forming on the tip of my brand new boot not even a blip on my radar. I had more important things to worry about, like peanut butter perfectly combined with just the right amount of milk chocolate that should be so rightly sliding down the confines of my throat at this very moment.

This machine was going down.

"Karli! Are you in here?" The nasal voice of my boss has never sounded so infuriating than at that moment. Even when he had called me at 2 in the morning, drunk, very determined that one of the other interns had cheated in their last games of Words with Friends.

_Oh Words…you're next on my shit list. _

"Yea man, she's in here, having it out with the vending machine." The burger-coworker offers in between mouthfuls. My response, a mix of annoyance and anger emanating from my gaze as I glance back over my shoulder.

"Tell her to meet me in my office. We've got a proposal to go over and the execs are preparing a presentation that I need her to attend for summery." Again, I roll my eyes. Apparently the concept of 'within hearing distance' is lost on the pompous and powerful these days.

Burgerman locks eyes with mine, a drop of ketchup sliding comically down from the corner of his mouth. Part of me, the nice part, tells me I should probably alert him to the minor drippage. While the other part, the stronger, reeses-less induced angry part, tells me I just honestly don't give a fuck.

I give the vending machine one final kick before shouldering my black workbag, slash purse, slash lifeline.

_You win this one vending machine of doom._

I am nearing the hallway when a slight chuckle draws my attention back towards the nearly empty break room. My co-worker, burger still in hand, is the most obvious source of the sudden laughter. This guy really was pushing my annoyance limits today, that's for sure.

His eyes are focusing on something in his non-occupied hand, out of view from my spot in the adjoining doorframe from the hall.

"Something funny Danny?" I question, readjusting the strap now digging into the skin of my shoulder. He doesn't respond verbally, instead cracking his neck to the side before lifting the hidden hand slowly into my line of sight. The familiar, bright orange wrapper of a Reeses package is balanced carefully between his index and middle finger.

"You ass! How did you-" I stop mid-sentence when a sudden dark, almost black film flashes across Danny's usually blue eyes.

"I think Jim is waiting for you Karli." Danny blinks, his face void of any emotion, the black cover of his eyes vanishing just as fast as it appeared.

_I'm losing it. Three consecutive days of overtime and I'm finally losing it. _

"Yea…thanks." Brushing it off as exhaustion mixed with a hint of insanity, I continue on through the well-lit hallway to my superior's office, only a bit more terrified than normal for a Wednesday afternoon. Wednesdays were taco salad day after all.

"You wanted to go over some notes with me?" That sentence had practically become my patented greeting these days as I peek my head and torso through the cracked door. Ah, the joys of an entry level assistant.

"You could say that." I can't help the unnatural chill I get from just being in the same room as this creep. His eyes hover carelessly over the swell of my chest as he motions to the open chair adjacent his desk. Lovely.

"Sir, I'm not sure if you remember but today was supposed to be my day off. I appreciate the extra hours, but I do have some friends left that are beginning to actually question my existence." The fact that he put up with my sarcasm is a main factor in the miracle that I even still have a job. Almost makes the job somewhat bearable I guess, but then again I couldn't really curb my clever tongue, even **if** I wanted to.

"I'm aware Karli," Jim leans onto the desk, supporting his eerily grinning face with his elbows, "I just don't care."

"Excuse me?" I hesitate, pausing midway through setting my bag on the floor in an uncomfortable side-lean.

"You heard me, you disdainful little bitch." Jim has the tendency to be a bit short tempered now and again, but that seems to be a bit unnecessary. I open my mouth to retort with some, hopefully, brilliant comeback, defusing this extremely uncomfortable situation with clever humor. That doesn't quite happen.

Instead, I find myself face down into the dark wood panels of Jim's desk, his hand pressing insistently on the back of my neck holding me in place.

"Jim what are you-"

"Shut up!" I can feel Jim's breath burning against my ear as he leans over me, "You have no idea how many times this guy has wanted to bend you over the desk, just like this. You and me, we're gonna have some **fun** tonight sweetie."

My brain is working at a million miles an hour as a hand creeps slow; torturously slow, up the left side of my rib cage, my own arms pinned between my stomach and the desk I am flattened against. What is he thinking? How could this possibly be happening? What did he mean 'this guy'? I want to scream, to fight against the invading hands groping at what feels like every inch of my body.

Nothing happens. It's as if every muscle, every bone, every atom in my body is being tied down by some invisible force. Paralyzed, but fully aware of every touch of Jim's unnaturally hot skin burning against my own as he rips the fabric of my shirt apart completely.

Something cold hits the middle portion of my spine, the sharp point digging into my skin relentlessly until I am almost sure blood is drawn. The pain is unbelievable, the known sting of tears pinching at the corner of my closed eyes.

"You humans are just **so** fragile." Jim drawls, releasing the hold on my neck to grip tightly at my hair, forcing my head back and my eyes to lock frighteningly with his own.

"With just the _tiniest_ bit of pressure here," He digs the knife in for emphasis at the base of my spine, "I could cripple you completely. Any more, and well, you'll just die instantly, but what fun is there in that?"

"Please…please don't…" I am sobbing now, horrified at the pitiful pitch of my own voice pleading for mercy that will never come.

"Shh shh shh, don't waste your breath begging darling, save it for later." He leans over me once more, biting down on my ear harshly, "You'll need it."

"Hey buddy," Jim's attention is drawn back towards the door I had entered through earlier, this new intruder hidden from my own view arching against the desk, " You know that's just a sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen."

Jim's eyes take on the black film that had covered Danny's eyes earlier, snarling before yanking me from the desk and pressing the knife flush against my throat. My brain is screaming at me once more to just do something, anything, instead of standing here like some broken rag doll, allowing myself to be tossed and turned without any sort of resistance.

The intruder, two of them actually, are now within my line of sight. Two men, one tall; the other not so much, stand guns drawn at the opposite end of the room.

"Let her go." The tall one speaks for the first time, his hand reaching for a large knife hidden within his belt. Jim laughs, only gripping me tighter, blood beginning to spill from the slight gash on my throat. A sudden odd rush of embarrassment washes over me as I realize I'm standing in a room of three men in just a bra and ripped skirt.

Not the time genius

Along with the flush of red to my cheeks, a shot of adrenaline pumps through me. I bring my arm forward, and send it crashing back into Jim's gut with as much strength as I can muster.

He laughs.

"Don't even think about it you son of a bitch." The shorter man warns, "Kill her and you can bet your sorry ass that you'll be lying there on the ground next."

This seems to also amuse Jim, his laugh growing louder, terrifyingly so. It's amazing how you could work with someone for 3 years, and not realize what kind of monsters they are. Of course this situation, what with the pitch black eyes, talking in third person, and referring to others as if they were a different species; things _might_ be a bit out of the ordinary than just some hidden skeletons in the closet.

"That so? Well then, what if I just slip into something more," His free hand grips my jaw roughly, forcing my mouth open, "Comfortable."

What happens next can only be explained as…well weird is the first thing that comes to my mind. Jim's body goes rigid behind me, black smoke bursting forth from his lips as his head lolls back in response.

"Move!" The shorter man's shout shakes me from my momentary trance, just long enough for me to notice the black smoke now swirling towards my parted lips.

Well this can't be good

I attempt to move, now free from the confining grip of Jim's hands and knife. I only make it about half an inch before black clouds every part of my vision.

And then things get weird…er

Instead of invading my gaping mouth, which I can only assume this _thing_ was trying to do; it merely continues to float helplessly about my face. I watch this odd exchange for a moment, then slowly side step from the black cloud engulfing my face. I glance to the two men still standing at the door, looking just as confused as I.

"Well, that's a new one." The taller man comments, glancing down to his partner for confirmation. My attention turns to the smoke, just as it decides to disappear into the ventilation, then to Jim, passed out cold on the floor, the urge to kick him in his unguarded stomach almost too strong to contain.

The fact that I feel about ready to join him kinda helps.

Without the rush of adrenaline and paralyzing shock to mute my feelings, things start to click throughout my thoughts, the reality of what just happened in the span of five minutes now starting to sink in. My mind spins, every drop of color seeping from my cheeks and shifting to my frantic heart pounding against my chest.

"I…what just…I don't…"

"Damn it! It's going to warn the rest of them now."

"What did you want me to do Dean? Let him kill her?"

"Hey, um…I think…I think I might need to, sit down for a second."

"Don't be a smartass Sam, you could have started an exorcism. You have the damn thing memorized."

"You were the one having a conversation with it. Maybe if you would-"

I don't get the chance to listen to the rest of that riveting argument as my skull collides with the carpeted ground, the last of my consciousness wasted on thoughts of a future migraine and the leftover pretzel I had sitting in the fridge.


	2. Superman

_Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Castiel and any other Supernatural characters belong to the show's writers. I claim nothing and write this merely for my own and others entertainment with no desire of profit._

_A/N: Thank you Kiara d'Arc Erzsebeth for the very first review of Anthem of the Angels! Here's hoping to many more for many more chapters. I chose the lyrics of this song for this chapter because for some reason in my head, this is totally Castiel's theme song. This being Castiel's first appearance, it seemed to fit. Plus, it's a really good song._

_It may sound absurd, but don't be naive_

_Even heroes have the right to bleed_

_I may be disturbed, but wont you concede_

_Even heroes have the right to dream_

_It's not easy to be me_

_Superman ~ Five for Fighting_

Pain is the first thing I register. Oh god, the pain.

I groan, rolling onto my side. At least, what I think is my side. With my eyes slammed shut, and stabbing agony shooting across each side of my brain like a ping-pong game, it is sort of hard to discern which direction is up.

"Hey, I think she's waking up." The words come across as inane babble for a brief moment, my ears obviously having decided to stop working at some point prior. My mouth, on strike right along with them, can only mumble blearily while my arm drapes over my eyelids to block out any hint of light.

"Listen, you need to wake up. You might have a concussion, it's not safe for you to be asleep."

"No." Maybe not poetry, but it's a start at least. I smack my dry lips together, flipping over in whichever direction is opposite.

"We're trying to be nice here lady." Ugh, deep voice. Loud deep voice.

_Go away loud deep voice_

A hand grips at my shoulder and shakes lightly, my brain slightly registering through the slicing pangs of anguish, an itchy blanket rubbing against my skin.

"You want to keep that hand, you get it the hell off me." I nearly growl out the words, fingers twisting in the scratchy cheap fabric and drawing it tighter around me. The hand disappears with a low chuckle, a slight shift of the bedding beneath me rocking my prone form slightly.

Gentle movement is the least of my concerns as something cold and wet hits my face with a vengeance. I shoot up with a yelp, clutching my throbbing skull while water rushes down my face.

"I tried to warn you." I crack a sideways glance at the deep voice owner sitting beside me. The shorter man, his cropped hair disheveled and green eyes glinting mischievously as he wags an empty water bottle in my face.

"That was pretty harsh Dean, even for you." The other man, Sam I think he was called, stands arms crossed on the other half of the darkened room, leaning casually against a horribly painted dresser.

"Oh god, my head!" I groan, no longer concerned with the soaked hair glued to my face, or the still cold water now dripping down to my stomach. Tears once again burn at the apex of my scrunched eyelids, my body doubling over as I struggle from vomiting.

I faintly hear the two men conversing in the background, seeming to ignore my cries of pain. Assholes.

"Um, Dean is it?" Though blurry, I can still see his broad shoulders turn to face me, "I could really use an aspirin right about now, if that's not too much fucking trouble." My temper is at an all time high. Not only do I have no fucking clue where I am, who these two clowns are, or why my brain feels as though it's splitting in two, but I've also noticed my shirt is gone, revealing some nasty cuts and bruises forming all throughout the length of my torso.

Whatever sort of funky mojo these guys have going on, they seem to have dragged me right along into it.

"Well then, I'll get right on that princess." Dean responds with an over enthusiastic smile, disappearing for a moment into the room's adjoining kitchen. It seems to be some kind of cheap motel room, now being able to cross the issue of location off my list. I glance over to his buddy Sam, his shaggy brown hair and confused glare reminding me somewhat of a lost dog. A **very** cute lost dog, all lean muscle with some dark, strange but mysterious aura thing goin on.

_Great, now I'm checking out my kidnappers, real smooth_

Dean re-enters the room, the soft jingle of a pill bottle the first pleasant sound I hear yet. He tosses the medicine to me, the plastic smacking against my forehead before I can clamber after it.

"You aren't afraid those are roofies or something?" I crack open the bottle, palming two pills and swallowing them dry before glancing back up to Dean.

"Honestly at this point," I laugh slightly, partial disbelief and the other half possible insanity, "I really just don't care." I flop back down against the mattress, wincing at the lack of cushioning provided by the two-dollar pillow.

"What do you remember from last night?" I can't see him, but by now I can discern Sam's voice as the one questioning me. I scrunch my already closed eyelids, struggling to pick out and follow the scattered images from moments past.

"I think…I was at work," I piece together a button up blouse and pencil skirt, typical office-work attire for my position in corporate hell, "On my lunch break, I was trying to-" I am cut off by the crinkling of a plastic wrapper, my eyes snapping open with thankfully much less discomfort.

Dean sits atop the opposite twin bed, his eyes locking with mine as he tosses an orange, bunched up ball of trash over his shoulder carelessly.

"What?"

"Is that a Reese's?" I smack my lips once more, lifting my torso up slightly to gain a better vantage point.

"Yea." He pops the entire chocolate cup into his mouth, chewing it obnoxiously as he continues to stare at me questioningly, "Grabbed it off of one of those-"

"Danny! Is he ok?" My envy of the tasty candy is suddenly replaced by a drastic sense of urgency, the memory of stark black eyes and sneering threats triggering alarms all throughout my senses.

"Oh God…Jim. He, what the hell **was** he?" Absentmindedly, my fingers trail across the shallow gash spanning across the length of my neck, the faint sting of a blade against my skin almost as present now as it had been last night. My head begins to swirl with panic, the two men obviously having taken notice now rushing to my side for aid.

"Breathe, you need to breathe." Sam warns, a large hand running soothingly up and down my back. Dean takes a more direct approach, instead stuffing a half-drunken bottle of whiskey in my face.

I decide to go with door number 2, snatching the bottle from his grip and taking a swig.

"Heh, man looks like she's **right** up you're alley." Sam comments, shaking his head disapprovingly. Dean simply smirks, his sudden nearness on the mattress beside me not going unnoticed.

"Listen, we need to ask you some questions about what happened," Dean places a calloused hand against the top of my thigh, "Let's start with your name."

I take another draw from the bottle. Suddenly **very** aware of my state of undress I tug the itchy blanket tighter around my shoulders, ignoring the quiet snickering of Sam pretending to be busy in the kitchen. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I didn't find this Dean guy to be attractive. Hell, any sane woman would be doing back flips if put in my position at this moment. I guess being threatened by some soulless monster and almost getting killed seems to be a pretty nasty cock-blocker.

"Karli." I announce, silently damning the sudden rush of heat to my cheeks. I decide to refrain from giving out my last name, not seeming to be of any importance anyhow.

Dean nods, that same sexy, mischievous grin playing across his expressive lips.

Shit, I'll be lucky to form more than a two word sentence at this rate.

"So, you remember that guy with the knife right?" I nod, fingers gripping tighter against the cool neck of the whiskey bottle.

"Yea, that was my boss Jim."

"That wasn't him, not really," Sam pauses dramatically, crossing back over into the living area of the room, "He was possessed."

"Possessed." I repeat dully, unable to form any other sort of response. Mental images of projectile vomit and 360 degree head spins come to the forefront of my mind, the inappropriate urge to bust out laughing only slightly less uncontrollable than my need to burst into tears.

"You saw its eyes, it leaving Jim's body." Dean adds, a slight tightening of his fingers against my skin reminding me of his presence.

"That smoke…"

"That was the demon. It was going to, well, **trying** to possess you." Sam crouches down in front of me, "When it couldn't, it took off."

"Which brings us to question number 2. Why couldn't it possess you exactly?" The bluntness of Deans query catches me off guard, the dam of tears I continually fought to contain now breaking down as I do the same. I fold over, cradling my sobbing head in awaiting hands. These poor guys seem at a loss. Apparently, comforting inconsolable women isn't covered in Demon Hunting 101.

"I, I don't know!" I cry, hyperventilating pathetically as I continue to weep. I sit there, hunched and dripping and all other sorts of unattractive. Dean's hand _mysteriously_ disappears from my thigh, along with the warmth of his nearness. Sam soon follows suit, the sound of their footsteps alerting me of their departure to the kitchen.

Oh what a sad, sad mess I make.

After awhile, I'm not even sure why I am crying anymore. The sting of a near death experience has long worn off, and I refuse to believe I can possibly get this upset over a damn piece of chocolate.

_Well…that kinda depends on what time of the month it is_

I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I wipe the blurry wetness from my eyes. And then I scream. Oh man, do I scream.

Standing before me, with no idea on how he got there, is a man. A scrawnier, trench coat wearing, scruffy looking man. He looks down at me, a slight look of confusion pinching at his dark eyebrows.

Dean and Sam come running back in, a look of wild alarm as they grab whatever object is close that can also be suited as a weapon.

"It's another demon! He came out of nowhere!" I scream, leaping from my spot on the bed. Ineffectively, I also toss the scratchy gray blanket in some messed up sort of defense at my would be attacker. Death from crappy manufacturing, what a brilliant plan.

The blanket hits the guy dead on, billowing over his entire upper half and concealing it. He doesn't seem to react accordingly however, the form of his head simply turning to face the demon hunters entrance.

"It seems I've come at a bad time." A deep, monotone voice comments from beneath the blanket, my eyes darting from it to the almost amused faces of my only forms of protection. Slowly, a hand reaches from beneath the cover and gently removes it from his head, his unkempt, black hair sticking out at every odd angle.

"Calm down Karli, he's not a demon." Sam reassures, glancing over to my position standing atop the other mattress, fists cocked as if I had any clue what to do with them.

"Oh," I relax my arms slightly, looking back over to the expressionless intruder, "Sorry about that then." He doesn't reply, just watches with a bored expression as I lower myself back into a seated position.

"Cass, what is it?" Dean asks with what seems like annoyance. He moves to an armchair, removing a ratty leather jacket from its armrest and tossing it over to me. Reminding me for the second time today that I am nearly topless, now in a room of three strange men, I put on the old thing immediately, despite a somewhat off smell about the thing.

"Were you successful in locating Lilith?" The odd man, Cass, questions, thumbing the blanket I threw at him while glancing over at me briefly.

"There were a shit ton of demons in that place, but no Lilith." Dean falls back onto the chair while tossing his makeshift weapon to the side.

"Then who is she?" Cass motions to me, his eyes set on Dean, now ignoring me as if I were merely some piece of furniture.

"This is Karli, the demons were going to try and kill her." Sam states nonchalantly. It would seem possible death is no biggie in his eyes. Very reassuring.

"Karli, this is Castiel. He's um, well-"

"I am an angel of the Lord." Castiel moves his gaze to lock unsettling upon me, deep blue eyes never straying from my puzzled large brown ones.

"An angel." I swear, I am turning into a fucking parrot. I shift uncomfortably under Castiel's glare, imagining somehow that I might be able to disappear into this stinky leather jacket completely.

_Oh yes, because being forever entrapped in a prison of gun smoke and gasoline fumes is much better than the existence of angels and demons_

I have no reason to take any of this madness as proof of reality, and yet, I cannot even possibly begin to deny the horrible truth of it. These men who I don't know from Adam, who could have even possibly started all this craziness, have this unexplainable draw to them.

This underlying sense of good that I just can't seem to want to pull away from.

"Cass, the demon, it tried to possess her but," Sam sends a mixed look of confusion and warning my way, "It couldn't. It was like she had this barrier around her."

The angel looks at me, and God help me if I didn't blush right then and there. No pun intended.

Those eyes, something that only seconds ago had seemed downright terrifying, now only bring warmth. Also a strong urge to hug and squeeze him like some human-sized teddy bear. Judging by his dour expression however, that's something I doubt he would welcome quite as eagerly.

I clear my throat of an irritating tickle, somewhat hoping the thoughts of bizarre bear hugs with strangers disappear just as easily.

Castiel takes four quick steps towards me, closing the distance between us and making the uncomfortable nearness of Dean beforehand look like a modest gathering. Before I have a chance to speak, he places two fingers at the base of my hairline, my eyes crossing comically to follow his outlandish movements.

He seems to ponder something for a few moments longer than comfortable, a strange sense of invasion and vulnerability sparking through me to the tips of my toes.

"I see." He finally concedes, removing his fingers from my head, yet remaining at his increasingly tolerable closeness. Still weird, but not at all unpleasant as I glance up at him comfortably. He looks back at me, a fleeting expression of understanding crossing his features.

"Well? Don't keep the rest of the class waiting." Dean interrupts from his seat across the room.

"I don't understand. To which class are you referring-"

"Nevermind Cass, just tell us why she's immune to possession." Sam hints at progression, my own curiosity now peaking from this shift in inquiries.

Castiel turns from me, facing the pair of hunters with what I can only guess is a look of serene severity.

"I cannot tell you."


	3. Cheryl Tweedy

_Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Castiel and any other Supernatural characters belong to the show's writers. I claim nothing and write this merely for my own and others entertainment with no desire of profit._

_A/N: Once again thanks to Kiara for the review, you're awesome. I hope the rest of you are enjoying the story just as much, if not more. I'd love to hear any comments or critiques, whatever makes this that much of a better read for you guys._

_I wish I could apologize, be dignified_

_Wish I could look you in the eye_

_And tell you I never lied_

_I wish that I could stop the cries_

_Don't wake me up today_

_Under my duvet's where I wanna stay_

_Cheryl Tweedy ~ Lily Allen_

I know I should probably be paying attention to the situation at hand. They are after all, conversing about me.

"Enough of this secret society bullshit Cass!" Someone is yelling now, Dean I'm pretty sure. My eyes are too preoccupied with watching the cute little swallow perching atop the outdoor windowsill.

Sometimes, you just gotta be able to enjoy the little things in life, even if it is just a red-bellied distraction.

"I am sorry Dean, it would go against a direct order." Castiel's voice is much easier to discern, despite his fairly recent introduction. I find myself stealing glances every now and again at the raven-haired angel. Hell, it's not every day you get to remind yourself of that opportunity.

So I do just that, watching him glare and linger about, only briefly catching the minuet shifts in expression on his otherwise emotionless face.

"Ok, I feel I should butt in here." I finally speak, all three heads turning to look at little ol' me lounging back against the splintered headboard. Dean, now squared off only a few feet from Castiel, almost seems to have forgotten my presence entirely, his eyebrow quirking in response to my sudden involvement.

"You all seem like very, very nice men…heavenly beings…whatever. But how exactly am I supposed to be a part of any of this?" I throw my hands up in helpless denial, "I mean, demons? Angels? I'm an assistant to some big wig for a distribution company! I'm not even that religious to be honest." I shoot Castiel an apologetic glance at that last comment, though in truth I think I _might_ be attending a bit more sermons after this fiasco is finished with.

"Well really, you're not," Sam responds with a shrug, "It was sort of just bad luck on your part-"

"They are mistaken." Castiel cuts Sam off this time, turning his full attentions on me with that familiar look of severity, "You are very much involved with the coming apocalypse."

"Whoa whoa, hold up. The _what_?" I am nearly shouting now, no longer relaxed against the hardwood bed accessory.

"Ah, then you haven't explained the entire situation yet. My apologies."

"The situation? You're talking about the fucking apocalypse here! End of the world, Hell on Earth, death of millions and I'm supposed to have something to do with it?" I leap from the mattress now, shoving an accusatory finger at the angel's chest, "And better yet, you wont even tell me how?"

"We all have our parts to play in this war. It is not my place to tell you of yours." Castiel is unfazed by my sudden frantic actions, gently grasping my prodding finger and raising it up awkwardly to my side.

"So it wasn't just a coincidence that those demons were there." Sam for his part stays stone faced as he interjects, even with me standing there, flashing the number one hand signal like an overzealous cheerleader.

"No, they are looking to capture her. Kill her if necessary." Well, Castiel sure knows how to lay it on thick. I fall back onto the bed, the weight of this revelation already making me want to fall blissfully back into unconsciousness.

"I understand if this upsetting to you." Even his reassurances are full of monotone nothingness, my hands cradling my forehead on bent knees, not even bothering to look up at his curious blue eyes gazing down at me.

"Are we supposed to baby-sit for the angels now?" Dean is still very much frustrated, his tone doing nothing to improve upon my own mood. The **last** thing I really need at this moment is to feel like someone else's baggage.

He is damn lucky he's cute, I can say that much.

"Dean-"

"No Sam, I'm sick and tired of this crap! We're risking out lives on the whims of these dicks, and we're just supposed to go on their word because they work for a God who can't even be bothered to throw in any sort of help." I can hear the rustle of Dean's boots pacing the wooden floor, "A God who could stop all of this from happening in a second!"

"Do not think you can speak blasphemy in my presence Dean." The dark tone of Castiel's voice forces me to look back up. His back is to me, shoulders blocking both Sam and Dean from my sight, "I pulled you from Hell on His word, but do not think for a **second** that I will not send you back. You are a tool of ours to use how we please, and if you cannot fulfill that role, you will see all those around you die."

Castiel disappears from sight in a soft flutter of what sounds like wings. Fitting exit for an angel evidently.

"Piss the angels off, great strategy there man." Sam gets up, reaching into the room's mini-fridge and tossing a beer over to Dean near the door. He opens it with ease, taking a decent gulp before turning once more to me still sitting there like a mope.

"Hey, um Karli right? Sorry about that. You're probably feeling overwhelmed already, last thing you need is me bitching about having to keep an eye on you."

Tell me about it

"Don't worry about it." I sigh, running a hand through my tangled hair. I'm not sure if it's still shock, or a surprising amount of strength on my part that is keeping me from screaming my throat dry.

Why did I have to go into work yesterday? I could have been happily perched upon my couch right now, watching some trash reality TV show and passing out before 10pm. Instead, I get to learn that monsters are real, and what do you know it, they have a special agenda just for me.

The dangers of diligence kids, it can get ya killed.

"I guess some proper introductions are in order." A hand is suddenly intruding upon my lovely view of the floor, my eyes following the tanned arm up to look into Sam's expectant eyes.

"I'm Sam and that's Dean, as you've probably already figured out. We're brothers." That would explain the constant, old women bickering going on between the two. I slide my hand into his much larger one, a slight rush of heat flashing through my cheeks as I once again find myself admiring his physique. Glancing over to Dean doesn't much help, my only focus being the obvious family resemblance of sick biceps and overtly mysterious sex appeal.

"Do you have any family we need to be worried about these things going after next?" Dean is straight to business, this angel business obviously having a negative affect on that subtle flirtation he had exhibited beforehand.

"My parents moved down to Florida about two years back. Not married, no kids," I hesitate, the awkwardness of explaining my personal life to two strangers becoming evident, "I started seeing this guy about a week ago, nothing serious." I add, noting the odd look shared between the two brothers briefly.

"What's his name?" Dean questions, leaving his brooding spot near the door and moving to his brother in front of me. I pause once more, watching the men curiously.

"Um, Gary Willis. Why?"

"Did he have dark hair, brown eyes?" Dean raises his arm just a few inches above his own head, "About this tall?"

"Well, yes, but so do half the men in this town." I consider Gary's appearance for a moment, "He has a tattoo on his shoulder that runs up to his neck." There it is, that same strange look passed from the two before.

"Did something happen to Gary?"

"He…was possessed. We don't know for how long, but probably since before you started dating him." A look of pity and indecision plague Sam's eyes, "It's likely that he was tracking you, if what Cass was saying earlier is true."

The sudden urge to gag is overwhelming as I remember the feeling of his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my ass and…elsewhere.

"You're saying I fucked a demon!" Sam's eyes widen slightly from this abrupt revelation, Dean smirking like a fiend off to his side.

"Um, well, yea. In a sense I guess."

"Hey, turns out she's more you're type Sam." Dean remarks inappropriately, my mind too preoccupied with sullied memories to focus much on its meaning.

"I think I'm going to be sick." I begin to dry-heave. Barely registering Dean's hand forcing me onto my back, I close my eyes and silently wonder just how many Hail Mary's it'd take to get forgiven for this shit storm.

"Sam start loading up the car, we need to get her to Bobby's."

"Please," I gasp, clutching at the collar of Dean's shirt and dragging him to me, "just, no more supernatural crap."

Then I pass out…again.

oOo

The chick goes limp in my arms much later than anticipated. Hell, I didn't think she'd make it past Cass's little appearing act. I've been hunting these kinds of things my whole life, and even I felt a little queasy after first meeting the nerdy little dude. Not that I'd ever admit it.

Sam comes back in from the kitchen with duffle bag in hand, hastily grabbing all the books and papers strewn around the room. The guys got a soft spot for the damsel in distress, that's for damn sure. I stand up to help, glancing back once to look at the woman sprawled awkwardly across the bed.

She's cute, especially all cozied up in my leather jacket. Damn lucky she's even wearing it too, but hey, girls had it rough, and I'm not **completely** heartless.

Her mouth cracks open slightly, a loud and drawn out snort uncharacteristically escaping it. I have to bite my finger to keep from busting out laughing.

"Dean, we have to find out what these demons want from her. Whatever Cass isn't telling us, it can't be good." Sam tosses another bag my way and I begin collecting guns.

"Yea, I know that. Maybe Bobby will have something." I grip the sawed off shotgun lying beneath the unconscious Karli's leg, my other hand holding it up as I slide out the weapon. I also take this second to admire just how long and lean her legs are. Must be a runner. Ohh, or yoga. Oh please God let it be yoga.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe Ruby-"

"Don't you even start with that shit Sam." I toss the gun filled bag down on the bed as I turn to face him, "She's exactly the kind of thing we're fighting here!"

"Exactly! If anyone would know what the demons want with Karli, it'll be her-"

"I said no Sam!" The shotgun clicks loudly as I snap whatever shells there were in the chamber out. A tense silence passes between us, Sam refusing to meet my gaze. How could he not see how wrong dealing with that demon bitch was? I have my plate full already with Heaven itself looking to me to stop the apocalypse, and now I got to stop his dumb ass from turning himself into a monster?

"Um, Dean." Sam is looking at something behind me, my eyes following to see the dark green bag smashing Karli's still passed out head into the mattress.

"Oh." Is all I can muster, snatching the satchel by the handle and peering down to make sure her face is bullet-less.

It is.

"Alright man, you want bag or girl duty?" I'm not sure why I ask. When given the choice of lugging a lumpy mass of books and weapons, or the soft curves of a woman's body over my shoulder, well, it's not much of a choice really.

"I'll take Karli. You got out ahead and make sure the coast is clear." Sam thrusts the filled to the brim bag of research in my arms, leaning down and scooping the brunette up in his arms in one easy motion. Damn it.

"Aw come on."

"Hey, you offered." Sam grins, shifting his grip to accommodate her weight. Her head falls comfortably in the crook of his neck, nuzzling him contently as she too smiles wickedly. Unknowingly, but still, it's enough to make me want to smack my own stupid mouth.

"Let's just go." I'm not too proud to admit I pout, and fuck it but I'm going to pout. A month out of the pit and I have still yet to get even some over the clothes action. I shoulder the two bags and exit the motel room, nodding back to Sam when I see that no one is around. Can't imagine two men throwing a knocked out girl into their backseat will go over well with the locals.

"What are you doing?"

I snap into defense mode, raising my pistol and turning off the safety before I can register Cass's voice as the one speaking to me. His stare is cautious as he watches Sam load Karli carefully into the Impala, an easy read as he is not a foot from my face.

"Ah, nice of you to come back. Change your mind about being all cagey then?" He turns his eyes to me, that same head tilt he has whenever I start saying things that confuse his non-adjusted comprehension of us lower beings.

"I was not caged Dean, but perhaps I was being rash." He looks up at the sky, "Your words were upsetting to me, I had to calm myself."

"That's great, really." I side step Castiel, making my way to the trunk and loading the baggage. Every inch of me wants to punch this guy square in the jaw, what little effect that would even have.

"You are leaving."

"Nice observation there Sherlock," I slam the trunk shut, "You come across any more helpful tips that you can actually tell us about, you be sure to stop by again." This seems to somewhat shame the angel, his sight dropping to the ground as I pass by him on my way to the driver's side.

"I cannot reveal her purpose," Cass takes a step towards the Impala, looking into the back passengers seat, "but I can warn you."

This makes me stop, leaning against the hood of the car as I once again watch the conflicted looks washing over his tired face.

"Do not to intervene."

"That's it?" I too glance at the sleeping woman in my car. Besides the cuts and bruises, she just looks so normal, so out of place for any of this craziness that we face down everyday.

"Yes." Castiel seems to ponder over something silently before vanishing in a slight gust of wind.

"What was that about?" Sam questions from inside the passenger's seat. I shrug, falling into the seat next to him and slamming the door shut.

"Who knows with those dicks."


End file.
